The Ring
by WillieHewes
Summary: Kainsken, they called him, little Kain, and they missed no opportunity to make him feel as small and useless as the name implied, like he was a servant rather than a fellow soldier. But he'd show them. He'd show them all.


  
  
Marius had brought one of his men, a frail little thing, white-skinned and with long, white hair. Raziel had seen him around the keep before; he always felt slightly sorry for the boy. He was usually nervous and on edge, and now, confronted with his Master for the first time, it seemed he would shake a hole in the ground.   
  
"Well, how did you fare?" he asked Marius.   
  
"Well, my Lord." Marius answered confidently. Raziel sat down on his writing desk and put his feet up on the chair. He did not wish this to be a lengthy report. "The people of Fallton were very amenable to us. They gifted us with three children and two young men."   
  
Raziel smiled. _Amenable._ Indeed. "Very good," he said.   
  
"-- There was one thing, my Lord," Marius interrupted. "The Rahabim found us and confronted us in the fields outside the village. We were forced to retreat at speed. The ring you gave me, I'm afraid, was lost in the battle."   
  
"What?" Raziel had given Marius his signet ring on his insistence. Marius himself had conceived of this unusual raid, using the authority Raziel's name carried even in his brother's territory to get the spoils quickly and quietly. It had not worked out the way it should have, which was perhaps no real surprise, but for them to lose the ring...   
  
"The chain I kept it on broke," Marius explained. "I gave it to the boy to keep, but he dropped it in our disorderly retreat." Marius bowed his head. "Forgive me, Lord."   
  
Raziel snarled, annoyed. He looked at the young vampire standing beside Marius, who met his eye accidentally and was caught staring back like a frightened animal.   
  
"I think I know where I dropped it, sir," he blurted out suddenly. "I'll go and find it!"   
  
Marius snapped his head round and bared his teeth in silent warning. Raziel raised an eyebrow.   
  
"On your own?" he asked, skeptical.   
  
"If you wish," the young vampire answered breathlessly.   
  
Raziel let himself slide down from his seat. Languidly, he crossed towards the pair. "What do they call you, brave one?"   
  
The boy looked to the side, seemingly embarrassed. "Kainsken," he said finally.   
  
Raziel could not suppress a chuckle. Kainsken, _little Kain_. With his long white hair and yellow eyes the boy did in fact show a superficial resemblance to the Lord of Nosgoth, if one ignored the vast difference in build. "Very well then," he laughed, "my little lord. I will not send you out so deeply into enemy territory on your own; it would simply be a waste. Besides, I doubt you could find it." He turned away from them again. "It cannot be helped now. Make sure your bounty is used well, Marius, and come see me in the evening."   
  
"Yes, my Lord."   
  
"And Kainsken," he said as they turned to leave. The boy looked at him fearfully, his lips drawn into a tight, straight line. "Ask your brethren if you can make yourself useful in any way. Perhaps they would like their blades whetted, their leathers oiled...?"   
  
The fledgling stared at him silently, tears forming in his eyes. The humiliation of being turned into his mates' dogsbody seemed to have struck him dumb. In the end, Marius answered for him.   
  
"I'll see to it, Lord." He grabbed Kainsken by the arm and steered him out of the room.   
  
.   
  
.   
  
.   
  
THE RING   
  
.   
  
Kainsken walked lightly down the straight, gritted road, confident now that he was safe. These fields were open, and, as he could plainly see, deserted. Dusk was slowly setting in, and he wondered if they had noticed him missing yet. He had left as soon as his fellow Mäuse had been asleep, and marched without resting. Anger had driven him at first, the built-up frustration of being belittled and mocked constantly, topped by his latest humiliation. _Kainsken_ they called him, little Kain, and they missed no opportunity to make him feel as small and useless as the name implied, like he was a servant rather than a fellow soldier. I'll show them, he muttered to himself through the unfriendly daytime. I'll show them what they can do with their dirtied boots! Now, he felt strangely confident that he would indeed show them what he was worth, the approaching night made his footfall lighter and his spirits higher. He sang a marching song to himself, a meaningless rhyme that had been sung by generations of warriors.   
  
Brightest day, brightest day   
Soon it will be fading   
Lost forever, dearest friends   
How your might is fading   
Hey there, marching dead men, meet us in the moonshine   
From the west until the east,   
Oswald takes us to the feast!   
  
He sang it over and over, wondering idly who this Oswald might have been. He did not know of any vampire in history by that name, but perhaps time had faded his legend, and this song was all that was left of it...   
  
Just as he breathed in for a strong "Hey there..." there was a crack and a rumble behind him. He stopped dead, and slowly turned around, looking behind him for the first time in hours. The sight nearly stopped his heart. Clouds, blacker than the night itself, had amassed themselves on the horizon. They hung low, heavy with water, and he could plainly see the rain pouring out of them, assailing the hills in the distance. The wind, he realised with dawning horror, was blowing his way, and strongly. He had not passed so much as a shepard's hut in hours! He looked around in panic, but these were barren fields, the only trees he could see where short and straggly; they would offer no protection at all in the rainstorm that was approaching.   
  
He began to run down the road as fast as he could, cursing his luck and his carelessness. A storm like this could kill him, and he had nothing to protect him. Only a cloak against the sun, but that would not hold off the rain for long, soon it would be wet through, and burn his skin until he weakened too much to stand... He ran. He ran without aim or destination; he only knew that if he stayed he would certainly die. The death-fright drove him on blindly down the road. Inevitably, the storm caught up with him, heavy rainfall battered the dust around him. He shrieked as he felt the burn on his exposed calves and he clutched his cloak around him. Soon enough, it was drenched through, the skin of his back and arms burned with an agonising pain. His feet carried him on, away from the road, into the fields.   
  
He neared the hills he had subconsciously steered towards, and realised they were actually ancient burial sites. He called aloud with relief when he saw one of them had an entrance, leading into some kind of grotto. He could not believe his luck. His boots sunk deep into the muddied grass, but sheer will kept him from falling down. Nothing could stop him now.   
  
He slipped inside and threw his soaked cloak to the ground with revulsion. He held his arms away from his body, shivering, gritting his teeth against the burning pain and backing away further from the entrance. Most of his clothes were leather, and had resisted the rain quite well, but the parts of his skin that were exposed had suffered badly. He stared at the curtain of rain falling outside, waiting for the pain to subside, gasping for air -- realising far too late that he was not alone here. Retreated further into the darkness of the tomb, there were four pairs of eyes, watching him with interest.   
  
.   
  
"Well, what have we here?" a sharp voice behind him said suddenly. He snapped around, and a heavy sense of dread sank into his stomach.   
  
"Oh no..." he whispered aloud. Rahabim. They crowded around him with the kind of curious amusement a child feels for an insect -- the kind that could turn into murderous intent in an instant.   
  
One of them was female; she carefully took up his discarded cloak, and displayed the red clan sign. "One of Raziel's spawn!" she declared.   
  
"You've wondered a little far from home, haven't you?" another commented. He drew his sword with glee and slashed the cloak clean in two, splitting the clan sigil. It flopped to the floor in two soggy heaps. They surrounded him, savage smiles on their faces. Kainsken looked from them to the rain outside, and back. His heart was racing.   
  
"What, you want to go back out?" the one that had sliced through his cloak asked. He had blond hair and wore a gaudy, gold torque around his neck. "Go ahead, be my guest." He stepped back to give Kainsken free passage outside, sweeping his hand and bowing in mock politeness.   
  
"Ooh, tough decision," the woman taunted, "what's it gonna be, us or the rain?" She was young yet, he realised. She wore a cloak with a deep cowl against the sun, much like the one he had just lost.   
  
"Tick-tock, tick-tock."   
  
His chances for survival out in that storm were negligible. That said, so were his chances here. He was a fledgling, caught out in enemy territory. If they were hungry, or simply in a sadistic mood, he had less than no chance. Their eyes bespoke their bloodlust as they circled him once again, only an arm's length away. He did not even reach for his sword; there was no point. He was no good at swordsmanship, and they were four. He realised that he was going to die. There was a grim finality to that thought that left him feeling strangely calm. It did not particularly matter what he did now, he would die regardless. He remembered something Marius had said, once, late at watch. "Sometimes the only thing left is to simply let go, and allow that which is bigger than you to take over. It has saved me often, when my own wits were at an end."   
  
"What's your name, rat?" one of them asked. He was taller than Kainsken, and bulky. He had no teeth except the sharp canines he owed to his vampiric nature. Kainsken winced, disgusted.   
  
"My name," he said with a force that surprised himself, "is Baldwin. And you would be wise not to harm me."   
  
"Truly? And why is that?" the sharp-voiced blonde asked.   
  
"I am Raziel's own agent. If anything should happen to me, he will be severely displeased."   
  
"And do you think Raziel's displeasure reaches as far as the Camden, whelp?" the tallest of them asked. He was a ragged looking warrior, his armour battered and worn.   
  
"Are you certain you wish to find out?" he replied willfully. He felt exhilarated. This was an outrageous gamble, but since he'd already lost, he might as well put everything at stake.   
  
"He lies," the woman hissed, but the toothless vampire raised a hand to silence her.   
  
"Why were you sent here?" he asked.   
  
"My business here is not for you to question," Kainsken said. "It is of no concern to the Rahabim."   
  
"How convenient," the tallest one sneered. Thunder suddenly cracked right overhead. They all jumped, except for Kainsken and the toothless one, who was undoubtably their leader. Kainsken held his gaze with silent indignation.   
  
"I tell you, he lies."   
  
"We shall know soon enough," the captain said, breaking his gaze to turn to the blond vampire beside him. "If he is indeed Raziel's agent, he will not hesitate to show us proof, will he? The head rat will have given him a letter asking for free passage, or a token of some kind." He turned to Kainsken again, whose heart jumped. Another hideous lie presented itself. It all seemed to fit together, and he found he was actually enjoying this game.   
  
"He gave me his signet ring," he stated triumphantly. They all stared at him, expectantly. "I lost it," he admitted. They burst into laughter, but he stood, unmoved, his eyes set on unfeigned displeasure.   
  
"I was just retracing my steps to retrieve it," he said calmly. "When the rain's subsided, you can help me find it -- if you wish." He felt strangely detached from the scene as they jeered and argued about what to do with him; he was the still centre of their storm, untouchable... He knew he was still probably going to die, but somehow, the thought no longer scared him.   
  
"-- no, we'll let him search for it. This should be amusing," the leader decided.   
  
"But I'm hungry now," the female vampire howled. She got clipped around the side of her head for the comment.   
  
"I have told you," the tall one threatened her in a low voice, "you will learn control, or you will learn the pain of death, child!"   
  
Kainsken tried to suppress a smirk. How often had he heard similar admonitions. It felt good not to be the one on the receiving end, for once.   
  
"You do understand we shall have to make certain you do not escape, honoured emissary," the captain told him. The blond behind him broke again into a high-pitched laugh. "If anyone would make these claims idly, his punishment would have to be most severe." His malevolent grin exposed the sickened, empty gums between his fangs. Kainsken didn't think he'd ever seen anyone so repulsive, and wondered how desperate the Rahabim were that they recruited a man with no teeth.   
  
"Of course," he said, as if they were truly diplomats conversing politely.   
  
They showed him no false courtesies however when they tied his hands up behind his back, and looped the rope around his neck to pull them high between his shoulder blades. He grunted with pain, the rope strained his arms and shoulders into an unnatural position, but he bore their humiliations with dignity. He was half starting to believe in his role as Raziel's emissary. The cruel-faced, blonde vampire held on to the end of the rope as if it was a dog's leash, and the four sat down in a rough circle to wait out the rain. Kainsken knelt carefully behind his captor, his balance shot by the strange position of his arms. He waited, listening to their meaningless banter and the violent rain outside, as the ropes grew more and more uncomfortable. The fear of dying returned to him, but he also felt hope. If he would find the ring he could back up his story; they could hardly do anything but let him go. Or so he hoped. Perhaps they would simply steal the ring and still drain him dry and kill him.   
  
.   
  
.   
  
It was well past midnight before the rain stopped. He led them through the wet fields, back to the road, and further south towards Fallton. Soon enough, he recognised the fields where they had had a short battle with the Rahabim. It had only been a small party, but their own numbers were no larger. Marius had put a thin metal chain into his hand, and shouted at him to take the mortals. "Run, if you wish to live," he had growled at them, and herded them away from the battle to the shelter of a scrubby forest further on. One of the children fell, and as he pulled it back to its feet, the chain slipped from his hand. He never knew the importance of what he dropped until they were well on their way home again, and he finally gathered enough courage to tell Marius he'd lost his ring. _It wasn't my ring, you imbecile, it's Raziel's!_   
  
He felt his face tighten as he remembered how they berated and belittled him then. And how he had scolded himself for making such a mistake. As if the fact that he was the youngest and weakest of them hadn't given them enough reason to despise him. With renewed determination he led his Rahabim captors onwards.   
  
"You were one of the bastards that raided Fallton, weren't you?" the woman asked. She walked besides Kainsken, the rest was behind him. The blond was still holding the free end of the rope.   
  
"No, I was here to repair the damage," he replied with contempt. The lies came freely and easily to him now.   
  
"What damage?" a high pitched voice behind him asked. "Why would Raziel care?" He yanked the rope to punctuate his words.   
  
Kainsken didn't look back. "Are you so blinded by your own power that you think you are the only creatures of importance?" he asked. He had heard the elder Konrad ask that question once, and like it did then, it deterred further questioning. They walked on in silence.   
  
"This is the place," he declared with greater certainty than he actually felt. "It must be around here. Untie me so I can look for it."   
  
Their toothless leader looked around at the barren fields and the straggling forest ahead. He nodded at the blonde, who untied Kainsken's arms, but looped the rope twice around his neck and pulled it taut. It burned, the rope had chafed his skin bloody already. His hands tingled and his shoulders ached as the blood began to flow through them again.   
  
"Go ahead. Find it." They all stood around him, watching, grinning. The woman stared at him with undisguised lust. He knew why, Razelim blood was considered a delicacy among their enemies. He felt his own hunger more keenly, as if it was answering hers. The rain and the lack of sleep had not done him well. He felt famished.   
  
He bent over and started to investigate the place where the child had fallen, or the place he thought she had fallen. The rain had battered these fields too, and the storm had strewn dead leaves and branches all over. He brushed his hands through the unbending weeds and grasses, and realised for the first time the difficulty of the quest he had taken upon him. It was only a ring on a chain, it could be hiding anywhere under these loose leaves, between the clumps of grass. It would have been hard to find if he'd had the whole night to do it, but now, in the company of his enemies, he had to find it quickly. It dawned on him that he would probably not find it before they lost patience. He knew they were counting on this, too.   
  
He got down on hands and knees, completing the impression that he was some kind of animal, rather than a person. He ignored their jibes and insults, and sifted carefully through the sharp blades and leaves. He blessed his clear nightvision, at least he could see what he was doing. Poison ivy grew here, and thistles. The leaves stung his hands as he touched it. He cared not, all that mattered now was finding the ring. Against expectations, against all hope. A prayer escaped his lips, whispered so quietly he could barely hear it himself.   
  
"Lord Kain, as I am the son of your son's daughter, as I have served you these short years and will continue to serve you -- if I live," he added doubtfully. "As I bear your name, I pray to you, show me the ring! Let me find it, Lord. You who see all, let m--"   
  
His breath was cut off by the rope, yanked back suddenly. "I don't think there is a ring here, little rat," that despicable, high-pitched voice sneered. And just then, he saw it, glinting between the thistle-leaves. Ahead, out of his reach.   
  
"I think we may have been befooled," the woman chimed in. Kainsken gritted his teeth and reached for the ring, strangling himself against the restraint. His fingers closed around it, and he immediately slipped it around his first finger. It fit loosely, and he closed his fist tightly so as not to lose it again. The loose chain dangled from his hand. He froze for a moment to compose himself. Now it would come down to playing his part convincingly.   
  
He stood up slowly, and held out his clenched fist to the toothless captain. He grabbed Kainsken's hand, and held it up to the light of the paling sky.   
  
"What is it?" the female asked.   
  
He studied the face of the ring intently and finally let go of his hand. "Raziel's signet ring," he said with disgust.   
  
"It can't be!" the blonde exclaimed, and Kainsken showed it to him too, staring hard at him with raging fire in his eyes.   
  
"So, what have you to say to me now?" he asked the leader.   
  
"Untie him," was the only reply.   
  
"What?" the woman screeched. "You're not letting him go?"   
  
"Whatever his business is, it is by order of Raziel himself. And that is one man I do not want to cross," he explained.   
  
"But Raziel is our enemy," she complained. The tall vampire, who Kainsken decided must be her maker, put his hand on her shoulder.   
  
"If Raziel were to demand our lives from Lord Rahab," he said slowly, "do you think he would hesitate a moment before giving us to him?"   
  
"Well, what if we just kill him," the blonde joined her protests, "how would he know it was us?"   
  
The leader turned on him sharply. "Are you going to kill his spectre too?" He gestured at Kainsken wildly. "Of course he will know, with our luck!" He shouted every next syllable. "Un-Tie Him!"   
  
Kainsken was happy to feel the rope leave his neck. He was aching all over and the hunger roared in his gut, but at least he was going to live.   
  
"You are free to go," the captain told him, gruffly. "Accept our apologies."   
  
"Are you sending me off like this?" he asked, boldly. "Unprotected against the coming dawn?"   
  
The massive captain glared at him, and for a moment he feared he had pushed his luck too far, but then, without taking his eyes from Kainsken, he said, "Carina, give him your cloak."   
  
The woman, Carina, protested loudly, but to no avail. He accepted her cloak gracefully and wrapped it 'round his shoulders. It was a deep night blue; the bronze clasp displayed the sinuous sign of clan Rahab. He bowed, a triumphant smile playing with the corners of his mouth, and set off back to the road.   
  
.   
  
He began to run as soon as he was certain they could no longer see him. He did not want to test his astounding luck any more than was necessary. He raced on northwards over the deserted roads, only stopping to soothe his unbearable hunger. A herd of cows stood motionless in the low morning fog, unwatched. Gingerly, Kainsken approached one of the large, sloe-eyed beasts. He had never fed from an animal before. He knew it was possible, and he also knew there was no vampire who would willingly. For the first time since he started running, he unclenched his right first, and looked at the ring that sat loosely on his finger. He could not risk to lose it now, but where could he keep it? The chain it had been on was broken, and he had no pockets he trusted enough to keep it. He could only think of one safe place, and he would take care of this before feeding.   
  
He walked over to the cow's drinking basin, a rusted steel tub filled with murky water. It was reflective enough for the purpose. Holding the ring between his teeth, he drew his dagger and pulled his earlobe taut. He counted down for himself, from three, and cut deep and swiftly. The pain was sharp, but it was a clean cut, and just where he needed it. He put the ring in, and held the bleeding edges together for a few moments. The flesh closed itself, trapping the ring inside. Now it would be safe. Now, too, he was hungry enough to feed from a cow.   
  
He slashed at the animal's neck; it took him three attempts to get a big enough flow. He drew it out and drank, horrified by the taste but too famished to stop. Long before he'd had his fill he turned away and retched. For a moment, he feared his stomach would simply refuse the meal, but he managed to keep it down. The cow lowed behind him, still bleeding. He coughed, disgusted. The worst burn had gone, and he knew this would sustain him on the way home. It had only increased his hunger for real blood, however, and he entertained himself on the long march home with thoughts of the cellars he'd guarded so often, shelves filled with sweet bottled blood, and plump, moaning prisoner girls.   
  
.   
  
It was nearly sundown when he reached the keep. He took off the cloak and rolled it into a bundle. The guards allowed him in without question, and first of all, he made his way up the stairsway to the upper level, and crossed the walkway to Lord Raziel's rooms. He had considered carefully what he would say to him, and felt confident now. The door was opened by Raziel's maid, beautiful, soft-faced and even younger than himself.   
  
"Would you tell the Lord that Kainsken wishes to speak with him?" he told her. She raised an eyebrow at him.   
  
"'Kainsken'?"   
  
"Please."   
  
She opened one of the doors leading from this reception room and stepped just inside. "Raziel? The vampire Kainsken wishes to speak with you."   
  
There seemed to be a slightly mocking undertone to her voice, but he would not let that deter him. Raziel strode into the room.   
  
"You? Your mother has been worried to death about you. And so has Marius." He was angry, and with good reason. Kainsken had been away for two days, and he'd not told anyone where he was going.   
  
"Well, they needn't have worried," he answered, confidently. "I am perfectly able to take care of myself."   
  
"Evidently," Lord Raziel said, raising his eyebrows. He walked up to him slowly.   
  
"I found your ring."   
  
"So I see." He reached out and took it between his fingers. Kainsken gritted his teeth, certain he would pull it out of his ear in a moment. But Raziel only gave it a gentle flick and said, "It suits you." He regarded Kainsken silently for a moment. Then he laughed softly. "It just completes the picture, doesn't it?" he smirked. "Don't you have a real name, besides 'Kainsken'?"   
  
"I would not want a name besides 'Kainsken', sir. I am proud to bear the Lord's name."   
  
Raziel nodded, surprised. "I see. Very well."   
  
Kainsken read the approval in his eyes, and he swelled with pride.   
  
"Does Marius know you're back yet?"   
  
"No, my Lord. I came straight to you."   
  
"Well, you better go and tell him, then," Raziel said, smiling.   
  
Kainsken reached up to the ring in his ear. "My Lord? Your ring?"   
  
"You keep it, for now," Raziel said in an offhand manner. Kainsken could not believe his ears.   
  
"But..." he began. He'd been through hell trying to get it back for him, and now his Lord didn't want it? Raziel looked at him, quizically. "Thank you, my Lord," Kainsken corrected himself and bowed deeply. At that he got a curt nod, and the serving girl saw him out of the room.   
  
.   
  
Feeling slightly giddy, Kainsken made his way back down the stairs and went through to the quarters where Marius and his fellows had slept through the day. The welcome he received was sobering.   
  
"Kainsken," Nort called out as he entered the room. All turned to look at him. Marius strode over angrily and struck him in the face with an open palm.   
  
"How dare you leave us like that, without word or indication where you went? Have you completely lost your wits? I ought to have you flogged!" he thundered. His men crowded round them curiously.   
  
Kainsken bowed his head. "I apologise, sir. I had no right. I will submit to any punishment you give me."   
  
"And what's this?" Marius grabbed hold of the ring; Kainsken turned his head towards him to prevent his ear from being pulled off. Marius let go equally roughly, but the anger was fading from his voice. "You went to try and find his ring," he stated, reluctantly impressed.   
  
"I succeeded, sir," Kainsken added innocently.   
  
Marius laughed, exasperated. He grabbed Kainsken by the arm. "All right, come on, we better go return it to him then," he said.   
  
"I've already spoken with Lord Raziel, sir," Kainsken said. He kept himself from laughing with increasing difficulty. "He was very pleased to see me, and let me have the ring."   
  
His captain frowned. "Raziel gave you his signet ring," he repeated. Kainsken nodded, smiling happily. Marius looked from one of his followers to the other, incredulous. Sonny's high, nervous laughter was the only answer he got. In the end he threw up his hands and went back to strapping on his armour.   
  
Suddenly, they all started jeering and calling Kainsken's name.   
  
"Kainsken!"   
  
"Well done, Kainsken!"   
  
"Hey, Kainsken!"   
  
Kainsken grinned confidently and made for his sleeping-berth. They continued calling his name, but it could shame him no longer.   
  
"Hey, Kainsken!" Sonny's voice sounded just behind him. Sonny was only a few decades older than he, and was something of a prankster. He turned around slowly.   
  
"Yes?" he asked in a slightly annoyed tone. The room grew quiet.   
  
Sonny was at a loss. Kainsken had never confronted him before. "What's that?" he asked finally, pointing at the bundle under his arm.   
  
"Oh this," Kainsken said casually, "I ran into some Rahabim on the way. Jolly pleasant company; they let me have this." He let the cloak unfurl and held it up so Sonny could clearly see the clasp on it. The detail wasn't lost on him.   
  
"The Rahabim _gave_ you this?" he asked, and tittered again.   
  
"What?" Gareth crossed the room in a few long steps. He was one of the eldest among them, and rarely joined in the more childish jibes. He had made it perfectly clear that he had no respect for his youngest companion, though. He ripped the cloak from his hands to study it, and responded almost as if it was a personal attack. "You lie!" he roared. He turned to the captain to intervene. "Marius, this is prepostrous! He could never take out a Rahabim! Not even if it was a little one! With no arms!" He clasped his hands behind his back and jumped up and down to indicate how a man without arms would fight. Some laughed at the sight, but Gareth, in his outrage, didn't deign to notice.   
  
Marius turned around calmly. "He's got that, hasn't he?" he said with a little nod at the cloak.   
  
Kainsken crossed his arms and smiled in triumph at his brethren.   
  
Gareth bared his teeth for a moment, then snorted. "You're still a worthless swordsman," he said, and tossed the cloak over Kainsken's head. Kainsken caught it and put it onto his berth. It was true, he had yet to win a fight. But the looks and smiles he got from his brethren that night showed a begrudging kind of respect, and that in itself was victory enough. 


End file.
